


but i don't really mind that it's starting to get to me (i see london, i see sam's town)

by craftingdead



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Diary/Journal, Feelings Realization, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Team as Family, canon compliant to a degree LMAO, mild/implied trans/homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: Anyways… I don’t know why I’m thinking so much about it, but for the past few days, I’ve been thinking real hard about my first few days out here.I wonder if the gang I had a shoot-out with, sheltered behind the comfort of my house and windows, had people they needed to get back to. If they were only in there for food and supplies because they had children or elders at home they needed to defend.I’ve admitted some of this to Uni, and he keeps on telling me to not worry about it, that it was probably some raiders who kicked puppies and doggies like him in their free time. “Most of the gangs out there were like that,” he said, “some of them kept coming after me, too! Said that dog meat tasted like chicken.”“That’s a lie,” he added, “I’ve tasted dog meat and it tastes nothing like chicken. Closer to cat and human flesh than anything else. Most of it tastes rancid.”-A man and his dog and their dusty regrets.





	but i don't really mind that it's starting to get to me (i see london, i see sam's town)

**Author's Note:**

> Why do you waste my time? / Is the answer to the question on your mind / And I'm sick of all my judges / So scared of what they'll find / But I know that I can make it / As long as somebody takes me home / [Every now and then](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQzDG-tILbo)

I remember my first day in the Wasteland.

Uni doesn’t. Says that all he remembers is a worn house, lots and lots of sand and gravel, and a dead body he tore into hungrily. Then he went into vivid detail how it’s flesh tasted, how he gouged himself on its insides, and I almost threw up. 

“Wasn’t even a pup when it happened!” he exclaimed, going through a can of beans. (His nose got stuck in it later and I had to wrestle him out of it. “Can’t remember much from my pup hood. Maybe I just… was born an adult!”

That story wasn’t as true as I thought it to be since later, he revealed a story from his pup hood about some man who tried to kill him, but maybe that was some of the little pieces he could remember. I mean, I don’t remember much from my childhood, either. I think a lot of it fades with memory—for most of us, anyway. Nick always boasted on how he had a spotless memory and could remember even the smallest things from when he was young.

Anyways… I don’t know why I’m thinking so much about it, but for the past few days, I’ve been thinking real hard about my first few days out here.

I wonder if the gang I had a shoot-out with, sheltered behind the comfort of my house and windows, had people they needed to get back to. If they were only in there for food and supplies because they had children or elders at home they needed to defend.

I’ve admitted some of this to Uni, and he keeps on telling me to not worry about it, that it was probably some raiders who kicked puppies and doggies like him in their free time. “Most of the gangs out there were like that,” he said, “some of them kept coming after me, too! Said that dog meat tasted like chicken.”

“That’s a lie,” he added, “I’ve tasted dog meat and it tastes nothing like chicken. Closer to cat and human flesh than anything else. Most of it tastes rancid.”

Uni hasn’t been feeling as sick these days, now that we’re roaming about the Wasteland again. “Maybe it’s because you were getting sick from being cooped up in the Greenplace,” I said to him a few weeks ago.

“Maybe… I don’t know,” he responded. “It’s more like, now, I’m getting a variety to eat! We only had a few things back in the Greenplace. Now I get a full palette! I missed Ghoul, they always tasted so good.”

“Uni that’s fucking disgusting,” I said, “do you even know what that’s doing to your body.

“No, and I don’t care! It tastes good so I eat it!”

I refused to talk to Uni for the rest of the day, then. He did the same, not even complaining about how hungry he was. He did flip over the can of mushroom stew I gave him, just to see how he would react. Later that night, he peed on my bag so I had to waste water to clean it off. Bastard dog. But he did manage to kill this deformed rabbit, so we ate well that night, so I forgave him. Didn’t tell him that. Just started talking again.

It’s been slightly exhausting, being the only one to provide for his endless appetite. When Adam and Dawn were here, they could help scout out food and give him their own. And Nick, of course, ate mushroom stew like it was going out of style, and Uni sometimes got desperate enough. Not now.

Sometimes, I go out with my Remington while he’s basking in the sun and try and hunt some small animals. Whenever I get a good enough catch, he scarfs it down and then doesn’t ask for more food for a few days. I’ve learned that it’s easier to feed him a lot at once.

“Cory, I miss grass,” he complained yesterday.

“You can always head back to the Greenplace if you wanna,” I responded, too busy cleaning my Remington to bother with his actions.

“But that would take so long! But grass tastes so good… Cory, have you ever eaten grass? You should, it’s so delicious!”

“I’m pretty sure eating enough grass can actually hurt you.”

Then Uni nipped at my ankle until I got up and got him something to eat. He does have a nasty bite when he really tries—those canines do not mess around. I’ve seen him tear into meat, and once tear out a door with them. He then tried to eat the door.

God… not too long ago, we got confronted by a gang similar to the one from my first few days. Well, I got confronted—Uni was hiding behind a tree. The main guy pointed his gun at my head and, out of nowhere, Uni sprinted to him and straight-up bit through his gun, knocking it out of his hands and tearing through the metal like it was paper. Then he tore out the guy's throat—a grisly scene—and the rest of them fled with their tails between their legs. Heh.

I took a look at the gun as Uni feasted (ew). The metal was pierced through, with two circles where his teeth had entered it and a long tear through the side where he’d hung, before ripping it out of the man’s hands. 

“Jesus Christ, Uni!” I exclaimed, but he didn’t bother, because he was too busy eating his third corpse of the week. It was only Thursday.

* * *

You won’t believe it—we ran into Okward a few days ago. Fucking Okward, the man who tried to kill us and steal our organs. We ran into him while we rummaged through a small “grocery” store in a town just off the shore.

I was trying to stop Uni from going feral on the meats, apologizing over and over again to the clerk who looked bored, when he walked in. I almost lost control of Uni and we almost lost ten bottle caps. When the clerk saw us stare at each other, he said fuck it, raided the counter of bottle caps, and walked out the door. That’s when I let Uni go.

Okward rasped, “You’re still alive?” as Uni threw himself at the flimsy glass protecting the meats from the elements and shattered it in one go, the shards barely touching him. If they did, he’d probably pick them out of his fur and eat them.

“Yeah,” I said, “no thanks to you. What was that, anyway, the hell you get from selling organs to whoever wants them.”

“Makes mad money. Our town needed it—when it was still around.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. He barely looked different at all—same clothes, same hairstyle, same height, same wrinkles. “I’m not. That town was getting boring. People ‘round those parts were getting too cocky, tryna turn my home into something it wasn’t. So I burned that place to the ground, everyone still inside. You still with those three fools from before?”

“Oh.” I didn’t know how to… respond to that, really, at all. Even Uni stopped eating to stare at him. “Uh, for a while, I was. It’s just me and Uni, now. We’re just wandering around the Wasteland, doing whatever.”

“Sorry to hear about your friends.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “But wanderin’ is the best thing you can do nowadays. Have fun, boys.”

As he walked towards the door, Uni called out, “Should I kill him, Cory?”

“What—what? Uni, god, no, you can’t do that. We’re civilized people we don’t—we don’t do stuff like that to innocent… well, sort of innocent people.”

If Okward heard the conversation, he didn’t acknowledge it. Just walked straight out the doors and continued walking in a fine line. I sighed and filled out bags full of necessities while Uni chowed down.

Maybe I should’ve sent Uni after him.

I still haven’t fully forgiven him for what he did to Nick, scaring him like that.

* * *

I went into college for engineering. My mom noticed how handy I was around the house, fixing little things that needed fixing and repairing bigger things that, otherwise, would’ve cost them a lot. My parents had the money, but I still liked repairing things. My mom always applauded me after I did and my dad rubbed my hair and said he was proud of me.

I didn’t stay long, leaving after just a year and a half. I got tired of the entire thing, of entitled kids who thought they were older than they acted. I was the same way, but I guess I was a hypocrite because I hated them for it. 

It’s weird, writing these down for once since they have almost no relevance. But I want them down, somewhere, just to preserve the memory in case I forget in a year or ten. My mom’s face is already starting to get fuzzy. 

Months before, I mentioned it to Nick in the Greenplace. How I was starting to lose my mom’s voice, that I couldn’t remember if it was higher or lower, and he said nothing and walked off. I was pissed—I thought he had learned better than that. But then, a few minutes later, he came back with a piece of paper and a pencil and asked me to describe her.

That I could do: Blonde hair, like me, but paler, and brown eyes, unlike mine. I got my eyes from my father—along with most other things. She was short, only five-one or something, and had skinny arms and freckles across her cheeks. Always kept her hair in double french braids down her back, while working, while cleaning. I swear, she slept in them too. Actually, she did, because after she took a shower she braided her hair so it wouldn’t be all tangled and messed up when she woke up in the morning.

I started crying halfway through. Nick… god, I know he’ll never read this, but you, Nick, you stopped drawing and leaned over and hugged me. Said that it was okay, he couldn’t remember his mother’s voice either. 

And when I stopped crying, you leaned back and continued to draw her. When you were done, you handed the drawing to me and… and you’re the only reason I can still remember how she looks. You got her down to practically a T, even nailing the slight crook of her nose that she said she got when she fell down a staircase when she was seven.

That picture is stored in this journal, tapped onto the first page, and I look at it whenever I think my memory’s faulting. I never got to tell you this but, thank you, Nick, for that photo; without it, I would be much sadder.

Back to engineering. My camera broke today. Yes, the one on my face. It broke because Uni tripped me and I fell and slammed it into the ground, which was hard and rocky. I wasn’t physically hurt too much, but everything was blurry and there was something off with my vision, and I swore at Uni for five minutes while he barked that weird dog laugh of his.

We had to stop there for the night, so I could fix my camera and so Uni could sleep then eat then sleep again. 

I had the tools in my bag, in case something like this happened or something went wrong with Uni’s robotic parts, so I had to half-ass fixing my face until I could see clearly enough to check in a mirror. I messed it up three different times. 

The first time, my vision went into solely shades of black, white, and gray. The second time, everything was a slightly different shade of harsh red so bad that it gave me a headache. The third time, everything kept spinning vertically until I almost threw up from vertigo. After that, I finally fixed it for real, and then threw away Uni’s favorite can of beans. Nothing was in there, he just said he wanted to keep it so he could preserve the taste (somehow).

In the morning, he didn’t even notice it was gone, so I didn’t feel too guilty.

* * *

I miss Dawn.

* * *

Whenever Adam was tired, he’d make it a show: Yawn loudly, and if we didn’t notice, yawn loudly again and stretch his arms above his head while making the fakest groan. Then, if we still didn’t notice, he’d loudly exclaim, “Wow, we sure have been walking for a long while, I’m beat!” to the closest person (or dog (or robot)). Then, if we  _ still  _ didn’t notice he’d yell, “Hey, dipshit, I’m tired, we should stop moving!” at me and if I didn’t stop moving, or if I told him to suck it up, he’d put me into a headlock until I apologized or agreed to stop.

* * *

I hope nothing bad has happened to Dawn.

Does Adam know how to fix robots? Does Nick? Can either of them get the parts to repair him if he gets hurt? What if he powers down and they can’t fix it? What if something goes wrong and he’s forced to pull the same thing that he did back with Mayor  ~~Armow Arphnow?~~ Aphmau and her village? What if he malfunctions and they can’t fix him?

Uni tells me to stop worrying. It’s been a couple of months since we left, and I still can’t.

* * *

To Nick,

There’s a post office in the town we found, so I’m writing a letter to everyone to let them know how we’re doing. I already left Adam and Dawn’s, so now I’m leaving yours.

How is the Greenplace? How is Susan doing? Is everyone treating you well? I hope you know that if Adam is being too insufferable, you can just take his hat and hold it ransom until he agrees to stop bothering you. For a day, at least, and a week at most.

I hope you’ve started eating more than mushroom stew. That things addicting, and I don’t think it provides much nutrients. Adam will get on your ass if he thinks you’re too skinny, and that’s never fun to deal with. Start eating other things, for once in your life, I don’t care if they don’t taste as good as mushroom stew.

I miss you. A lot. More than I thought I would miss you. Even more than I miss my comfortable bed, and Dawn’s fantastic cooking, and Adam’s stories. I even miss your dumb swindler actions, and how, whenever you picked something up that you liked, you tried to sell it off to me for a price much higher than it should be. I miss your stupid, nasally salesman voice, like a fucking rooster, waking us up in the morning by yelling at the top of your lungs, and I miss your normal voice, the one that you only allowed us to hear when you were very tired or very drunk, softer than I would’ve thought. It always sounded so sincere. No wonder you came up with that dumb other voice to use, that one’s hard to miss.

I never told you this, but I always loved the sound of your normal voice. It was always so soothing. You should talk in it more, Adam will probably take you more seriously if you do. And maybe be nicer to him, if you can. There’s always more you can do.

I miss your hair, too, and how curly it was whenever one of us could goad you into taking a shower. I miss your dumb, raggedy clothes that were too big on you and that you never replaced. I miss your goggles and how they always fogged up whenever we’d have a bonfire, making you look like a fucking, ghost or something. I miss your eyes, too, and how pretty they were; one green and one yellow, whenever you let us see them. 

How’s the weather been? I hope you’re well.

~~ Sincerely, ~~

~~ Love, ~~

~~ Yours, ~~

I’m never going to send this

* * *

Well, it’s officially been five months since me and Uni have left the Greenplace. Not much has changed. Uni keeps eating dead bodies and I keep on having to shoot people who come to retrieve those bodies, the usual. We’ve helped several towns on our way across the Wasteland—one from a corrupt leader, one from an issue with their pipes, one with this one jackass who wouldn’t stop harassing people, the usual. It feels… good, to be back out here, to be helping people.

I still miss them like no tomorrow, but it’s started to numb. Gone from a harsh longing to a sense of nostalgia in the back of my head. The… downside to this is that it follows me wherever I go. I feel guilty no matter who I talk to, wherever I go.

Uni keeps telling me to get over it, but it’s hard. It’s really, really hard to just “get over” people who have affected me as much as they have. Should I just forget the people who saved my life over and over again? Who I fought and bled for? Dawn, who’s been with me since before the fallout and the Wasteland? Should I just FUCKING FORGET IT ALL AND THROW IT ALL TO THE SIDE? SHOULD I FORGET THE HURT PEOPLE WHO LOVED ME AS FAMILY???

No matter what he says, I think Uni misses them too. He keeps complaining about how he can’t snuggle up next to Adam or Dawn to get warm anymore, that I’m too cold. He even mentioned how he missed Nick’s pets—as infrequent as they were.

I turned twenty-three a few days ago. Not that it’s important, but… it’s been the first birthday I haven’t celebrated ever. Even in our hellscape of a world, I told Adam and he made us take a break that day, ended up disappearing and getting me some new tools, too.

He made me promise to not do anything stupid in the coming years as the night faded out, time going from 11:54, 11:56, 11:58, and then finally twelve. Then, he got up and went to bed. It wasn’t like the birthdays I had back pre-fallout, but it was good enough and felt much more genuine than anything I’ve ever had before.

But, before he left, he chuckled and said, “God, I wish I was that young again. I’m thirty-two—I’m an old fucking man! Enjoy your youth while you still have it. Don’t waste it, kiddo.” as if I was some teenager.

Though, I’m not mad at him for addressing me like that. He’s lived centuries, starting over from one every time he reached a hundred. He told me this himself, how he was thirty-two when the fallout had happened, and how he expected to live to at least a thousand if he wasn’t murdered before that. Then, he pointed at me and said to expect the same.

“The fallout did tricky things to everyone. Didn’t teach myself this at first, and I got really rough at a hundred-forty. Don’t take anything for granted. Not even age, no matter how young you are.”

* * *

I saw a man today.

He was at a town we were passing through, dirty and abandoned. Asking a man a few feet away from us for directions to a place I’ve never heard about, and I’ve been in this Wasteland for almost two years. But that’s a small number compared to others, so I can’t really say anything to that. Uni didn’t recognize it either if that holds anything.

But here’s the thing I couldn’t believe: He looked exactly like Sky, as much as I could remember the guy. Brown ponytail, tan skin, decently tall, even similar clothes and the same striking yellow eyes. My double-take when I saw him was almost comical.

He left before I could work up the nerve to talk to him. Though, as I walked further into town with Uni, I swore I could feel his eyes on me. If it was Sky, I wondered if he recognized me. Or, at least, recognized Uni.

I thought Ross had killed him. But I could’ve been right. He could’ve survived. I wonder what he’s looking for if he’s Sky after all.

* * *

I still feel bad about Max.

I know he shot Uni and all, and he would’ve killed me, gotten the chance, but… but  I can’t really shake off the guilt. Especially after seeing “Sky” yesterday. It’s been eating at me. I stabbed that man. I fucking killed him, it’s all so fucked up.

I wonder if Adam ever felt like this, after his first kill.

I never got to ask him

* * *

I’m scared of forgetting my friends. It’s been seven and a half months since me and Uni left them. I want to go back. I don’t know if I can go back, or if I could even find my way back, after all this time.

He tells me not to worry but I still feel homesick.

I don’t want to forget their faces.

* * *

Adam -  blackish skin for face (rotting, i think he said??? with ghoul and everything) but brown skin for his arms and chest and legs and… everything else but his face. he had a bigger nose that had been broken and set many times over the years. his left ear is lower on his face than his right. he has a missing tooth (he lost it in a fight). he has green eyes so dark they’re almost black

he also says that he used to have a mole to the left of his mouth before everything ghouly happened to him

tons of scars too. he had a lot of stories about them. the most prominent was the one on his face, the two on his upper arm, one across his side, and one long one down the side of his leg. oh also the very small one right above his right eyebrow

Nick - brown skin. very skinny and scrawny. small... basically everything. he has the smallest hint of freckles on his face and shoulders and thighs (i think for that last one). he has one pale green eye and one yellow (left and right respectively). i think he called it heterochromia, or dawn did, i can’t remember

he had these thin scars going up his arms with a few on his thighs. every time i asked about them he said something different: “fought a deathclaw,” “bad experience with a raccoon,” “years of fucking up with can openers.” they always worried adam

dawn and susan—i can’t forget them, they’re so memorable. but if my memory does start to slip, i’ll dedicate a different page for them and mark it down

uni is asleep right now because i didn’t want him to see me write this. i’m so scared of forgetting them all. i’ve already completely forgot my dad, i can’t lose them too. i wish i had brought one of the pictures of us all

* * *

I got sick a few days ago, so Uni had to wander into a nearby town and steal some medicine for me. I got better after a while, but I was pretty feverish for a few days. Don’t remember much from those days, since I was in and out of this weird daze. Don’t know how Uni managed to keep us both alive, but he did, and I’m grateful for it. For the most part.

God—Jesus Christ, I’m going to hate writing this down, set in stone forever, but I really think I have to tell this. Even if no one ends up reading this, ever. Maybe use it as a reminder to never get sick again—or, at least, not around Uni, who is now officially the  _ worst. _

Earlier today, he walked up to me, while I sorted through out stuff to get ready to head out, and just… sat there as I counted through everything, slapping his tail on the ground rhythmically. It got louder and louder, and then he started to clear his throat every few minutes, then seconds, as I tried to sort through our stuff since,  _ no, Uni, you just ate a few minutes ago. _

“What?” I finally asked, after he whined loudly for a minute straight.

He got to the point immediately. “You said some… weird things, when you were sick.”

“So?”

“I wanna talk about them, Cory!” 

“I don’t,” I said. “Uni, I’m trying to pack. We need to leave within the next few hours, we’ve been here too long already. We’re in the middle of a desert, and you want to talk about something I said when I was delirious with fever?”

“Pleaseee, Cory?” he whined, making a pouty face (the best he could. Uni is still a dog). “Please please please I really wanna talk about what you said!”

I didn’t want to have to deal with him whining about it for four hours straight, because all I wanted to do while walking through that hellscape desert was for some peace and quiet for the first time in a week, so I stopped sorting, made a big show of putting everything I had away, then turned to him, squatting down on the ground. “ _ What  _ did I say.”

“Well, uh, you talked a lot about stuff… Adam said, or whatever. I can’t remember those much because you were mumbling a lot of stuff. I think you mentioned something about being mildly jealous of how he was stronger than you…”

“Alright,” I said, bored.

“Then you brought up how you wrote down what the… what everyone back at the Greenplace looked like because you were worried that you would forget their faces. Which is, if I’m being honest, Cory, that’s kind of weird.”

“Okay.”

“You also talked about how you felt guilty about killing all those gangs and people which I get that! Kind of. At least I understand it. A lot of people I’ve run into my life talked about feeling guilty about hurting people but, seriously? You felt guilty about murdering Max, of all people? He tried to kill me! He kind of did kill me, but I was brought back to life, so technically… I don’t think that counts… but he shot me, Cory! He shot a poor dog!”

“Hey, now,” I said, “he did shoot you, but you were attacking him. You were going all fucking, rabid on him, I think it was more out of self-defense. Maybe he was just scared of getting rabies. Maybe he didn’t want a tick from you to jump onto him God knows you probably have all sorts of diseases, from the kind of shit you end up eating.”

“He still shot me, Cory, you can’t be saying this. He tried to kill me! I’m half-robot because of him now, I’m like Dawn now because of him, but without any cool features. I can’t predict when a storm is coming, I just get weird metal platings that makes my fur itch!”

“Still self-defense. And at least you don’t have a camera for a face!”

Then Uni tried to bite me but stopped right before he broke the skin and right before I kicked him off and into a tree or something.

I thought that was the end of it, and got up to continue packing when Uni starting talking again. “And there was this—these other things you said, as well, that I really don’t think you meant to say. Literally, you told me you didn’t mean to tell me it afterward then threw up and then passed out for the rest of the night. I was lonely.”

“What did I say, Uni?” My stomach was starting to drop. If Uni was being this weird about it, well, it couldn’t be good at all.

“Well, you started by talking about the Greenplace, about how much you missed Adam and Dawn and Nick and everything that came with it…”

“Uni, you’re stalling.”

“…You went on about how you missed everyone for a while. Then you started talking about everything you liked about them all, even calling me a good dog, once! Then it turned to just talking about all the things you liked about Nick. Then you started blabbing about how hot he was, or something. You talked about that a lot. Cory, are you okay? Your face is really red. Oh! Then you mumbled some stuff I can’t remember, but I swore I heard you say something about how you wanted him under you, whatever that meant. Then you admitted that you loved him then threw up and passed out for the rest of the night.”

* * *

No, I did not kill my dog. I promise to you imaginary readers that I did not kill my dog. Uni very much is alive and well. I’ve recovered from that incident! Uni just quoted how I said that I loved him whenever I mentioned not liking mushroom stew, which basically forced me into eating mushroom stew so he would shut up.

I’m not an animal abuser. I promise. I didn’t kill my dog. I really wanted to, but I didn’t.

* * *

Now that I’ve recovered from the Uni incident, time for some dirt on him.

Earlier today he wouldn’t shut up about how much he missed Adam and everyone else. He went on lengths about how Adam would always give him an extra scrap of food when he was hungry, how he’d give him a blanket or the closest thing he had to one when he was cold, how he used to pick him up when he got too tired. “I’m a dog!” Uni cried. “I don’t have your human legs. I get tired!”   


Then he started talking about Dawn. How warm he was so that whenever they went to sleep for the night, he could curl up next to the robot and it wouldn’t complain. How smart he was, getting them out of bad situations. How he helped him adjust to his new, foreign robot parts, even if only a little… 

And, hell, he even mentioned that he missed Susan. How she would scare off anyone who came near—and he did mean anyone and everyone, she was a freaking deathclaw, how cool was that? Then Uni started to talk about how he wanted to be a deathclaw for an hour.

He even talked about Nick, at the end. Mentioned, again, how he was so good at petting and how that was the only thing he missed about him. And also how his lap was comfortable. And how, despite how many times Uni said otherwise, he actually smelled good.

I think we both miss them all a lot more than we’re willing to admit to each other.

Fully sober, at least.

* * *

My dad’s voice and face and mannerisms are gone from my head. I don’t know how this happened so fast. I can still see and hear my mom vividly (thanks, Nick) but he’s almost gone. I’m starting to forget his name, too. I can’t choose between certain spellings or certain pronunciations. It’s uncomfortable. I hate it.

I knew this would happen eventually—my dad is a very forgettable man—but god, does it hurt a lot more than I anticipated it would.

He taught me how to read, how to write, how to ride a bicycle, how to shoot. He was still the typical straight, nuclear family father, saying degrading things to my mom while tired (which still pisses me off) and always having a beer in his hand by the end of the night. But, other than that, he was a pretty good dad. Supported me in my decisions. Was off-put by my love of photography, but still bought me my first camera.

The camera currently on my face now.

I think I need to take a breather.

* * *

We ran into those fucking vampires again. I can’t believe it, the goddamn vampires are still around. The weird leader saw me and immediately called me something I’m pretty sure is a slur, from the reaction of the people around us, so me and Uni got out of that place very, very quickly. They tried to chase after us, but we outran them.

* * *

There was a girl at the bar I stopped at last night. I left Uni to sleep at a hotel room we’d bought out for too many bottle caps and headed out. I needed to clear my head, so I stumbled around town until I came across this place, which looked homely enough and decided to stop in for a second and maybe a drink. But not too many, because I don’t need another experience as I did with Uni while sick.

Anyway, there was this girl at the bar. One of the only people in it—the only other people were a group of men sitting around the table, laughing loudly at some joke I didn’t hear and probably wouldn't get. The bartender glared at them and continued to clean dirty glasses, a row of even dirtier glasses behind him.

She had long black hair, past the chair she was sitting on and curling towards the ends. Tan skin, orange eyes, if I was seeing things correctly, and a white shirt over black pants and a purple cardigan. She looked very tired and, as I approached, she muttered something in Spanish to the bartender, who nodded and poured her another drink.

I sat down next to her. The bartender asked what I wanted and I ordered a single water—again, the Uni incident, didn’t want another one of those. The bartender looked surprised but shrugged and went to go get me a glass.

“You feeling like shit, too?” she rasped, cradling her drink like a baby. For a second I couldn’t tell whether or not she was speaking to me or herself, until she shot me a sideways look like she expected me to answer her honestly.

“In a way,” I said. “I’ve been wandering around, trying to clear my mind, but it isn’t working. Some things just can’t be cleared, I guess.”

She laughed. There were dark bags underneath her eyes, and she looked only a few years older than me—a year or three. “You tell me. Say, blondie, what’s ruining your night?”

I thought for a second as the bartender came back and handed me a glass of water, before going to yell at the table of men. What was bothering me? Was it the whole situation with admitting my deeply hidden… feelings, I guess, for Nick, to Uni? Was it me feeling guilty over hurting all those “innocent” people? Was it missing my friends back at the Greenplace?

“A… a lot of things,” I admitted, “but mostly… I left some very important people to me behind because I got restless. I’m started to regret it a lot, but I don’t know if I can change it, now. It’s been nine months since I left them, and I don’t know if they would be where I left them. They can fend for themselves, for the most part, but I still feel… I don’t know. I just miss them. I miss them a lot.”

“I feel that.” She downed the rest of her drink in one go and signaled towards the bartender again, who came and refilled it again. I sipped awkwardly on my drink. 

“I guess my poison would be that I feel guilty. I did a lot of horrible, horrible things when I was younger, to a lot of people who didn’t deserve it and a lot of people who didn’t even know who I was. It eats me alive, everytime I remember. I ruined their lives. I _ ruined their lives. _ ”

“I’m sorry,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be.” She waved me away. Then downed her drink again. “Tom!” she barked at the bartender. “Next time you come around, can you get me a glass of water instead? I think my tolerance is starting to slip.”

“Well… if you still want to hear me half-vent, one of the people I left behind was a boy I realized I was in love with just weeks after leaving him. And, to make it worse, he would’ve loved me back. He might’ve loved me back if he had known.”

“Tough shit. A girl I loved as a teenager ran off to make some money to keep her and her brother afloat ran off at fifteen and I never saw her again. The last thing she ever said to me was that she was going to get herself and her brother out of their situation, and then come to live with me. Then she kissed my hand and my head. That was the last interaction I ever had with her. I still think about her to this day,” she said, staring at her line of empty glasses.

“Not too long ago, I forgot what my dad’s name was. I had already forgotten his face and his voice, so I wasn’t too surprised when I woke up unable to recall what it was, but it still hurts like a bitch. The most I have is his last name, but that’s only because it’s my own last name.”

“At least you still remember your last name. I forgot mine long ago. After I abandoned my cousin to do my own thing. Which has turned into drinking at a bar late at night talking to some gay dude who I’ve never seen before and venting about all the shitty things I’ve done in my life and all the things I regret.”

“Bi,” I correct because I’m pretty sure that’s the term for people who like girls  _ and  _ boys.

“Cool,” she said, “I’m a stone cold dyke. Woman are the only thing on my mind. Scissoring isn’t actually a thing we do if you were gonna ask. Also, there’s no such thing as the ‘man’ in our relationship, we’re both chicks. Or not-chick but still chick-aligned, or something.”

The bartender dropped off her water and refilled mine. By this point, I was seriously considering pulling a “strange woman I just met at a bar” and order five drinks in a row and cry. “I wasn’t going to ask. I’m sorry you had to clarify that. A lot of people—well, a lot of men are shitty. Including me once. I wasn’t the nicest to my old lady friends.”

“I forgive you on their account, you sound better now.” She smiled. “At least I haven’t had to explain to you that I liked women out of my own accord, and not because I was raped into believing it by someone.”

“Wow. I’m fucking sorry, that must suck,” I told her because it was true. That must fucking suck, having to explain that to a person.

She shrugged. “People aren’t the most accepting of women who like to kiss women and men who like to kiss men. Even less of women who they want to believe are men and men they want to believe are women. The world wasn’t the most accepting before the fallout, I’ve heard.”

Then she pushed out her chair and stood up. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Cory. Sorry for everything I did to you and your friends,” she said. Then she left five bottle caps on the table next to her half empty glass of water and walked out. It had started to rain in the time I was talking to her, and lightning crackled loudly in the sky. As I lost sight of her, I wondered how she knew my name and why she would apologize to me.

* * *

Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Dawn Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Dawn Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Susan Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Susan Dawn Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Adam Rodriguez Nick Lynx Dawn Susan Adam Rodriguez Susan Dawn Susan Nick Lynx Nick Lynx Ni

* * *

It’s been a year since me and Uni left the Greenplace. I haven’t been writing much at all, not for three months, I’m pretty sure.

Just remembered something that Dawn mentioned to me once. He said that while I was in the vault and he was stuck in the house, sometimes people would find him and experiment on him. He never let it go too far until either scaring them out of attacking them with his weapons if they were too hungry for whatever they wanted out of experimenting on some random robot, but he sounded sad when he told me.

“Not all my functions work the same because of it. I am not bothered, because some of them work even better than before, but I can’t count to ten in every known language on asking now. I don’t know why, Cory, but that, in particular, has been bothering me,” he said in his robotic voice.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to count to ten in every known language, Cory? It’s weird. It’s like breaking a piece of my nail off and never letting it regrow. Small, but it still… hurts.”

* * *

I used to fight with Adam all the time. Like, all the time all the time. Over the littlest things, big problems and small. Most of them were joking, trying to keep our trend of bitterly disagreeing with everything the other said as a long-term joke.

But sometimes those arguments got out of hand. Sometimes it ended with one of us storming to our roof in a rage, furious at the other for daring to say what they did, how dare they have the nerve! While Dawn tried to sort out the situation downstairs and Nick hid in his room if the yelling ended up getting too loud.

There are still some arguments I wish I apologized to Adam for. I said some really nasty things, especially when supplies and food got low, and I didn’t take them back. I didn’t take them back. I had many things I could’ve done before leaving the Greenplace, and I didn’t apologize to Adam for all of our arguments. God. How have I not realized this until now?

I should write a letter or something. 

* * *

Uni isn’t as hungry as he used to be. He says his stomach much be catching up to him, or something. I just think he caught something a little while back but don’t want to say anything yet, in case the impossible happened and his stomach actually did catch up with him and is allowing me to live in peace, not being forced to hear his voice ask for food every five minutes. Hopefully, if he did catch something, it isn’t too bad.

* * *

He didn’t catch anything. Earlier, he ended up throwing up tons of sticks and some rubber bands, than announced that he was hungry again. That must’ve been blocking something, to make him lose his appetite. Still kind of disappointing to know that I still have to deal with his endless appetite, but at least he’s not dead.

We found another dead body on the road. This one was more fresh, but it was from blunt force, not bullet wounds, so I wasn’t too worried. Probably some scuffle with a friend gone wrong. And, before I could tell him not to, Uni was onto him, tearing off fabric with his teeth and digging into his meal, batting away flies with his tail, which was wagging excitedly. What makes this notable is how I reacted. I didn’t feel as disgusted as I used to. I waited to tell him to cut it out a minute longer than usual.

* * *

I can’t stop thinking about Nick.

More specifically, the day we finally got fruit to grow in the Greenplace. It was a warm day when we out to check and, to our surprise, there were ripe berries on the plant we swore wouldn’t grow anything. Nick stared at it like it was the eighth wonder of the world, then tugged on my arm and begged me,  _ please _ , Cory, can we eat it?

I checked back in with Adam first, who gave us a thumbs-up in response. He had been the one to plant it, confirming the berries as blueberries—or the closest thing to the fallout version of them, and said they were safe to plant and to eat.

I grabbed a basket, feeling like a kid again, going berry picking with my mom, and immediately Nick was in the bush, pointing at berries at asking if they were ripe or if they weren’t if they were still safe to eat. I told him not to eat the ones that weren’t completely big and blue and he agreed. Or so I think, I didn’t see him eat any non-ripe ones but that doesn’t mean he didn’t.

As I picked out ripe ones, he provided occasional help by throwing them at me to catch and try not to squish. And he was also stealing some and eating them on spot, his eyes widening the first time he tasted one. It was entertaining.

I didn’t tell him that we should probably wash the berries first before eating them because if I did, there was still a fifty-fifty chance that he would still eat them right off the stem.

Nick ended up helping more in the end and we got enough berries to last us a decent while, to eat in our free time and add to meals. As we walked back to the house to show off what we had gotten done to Adam, he stole a few from the basket and popped them in his mouth, not bothering to hide it from me. And I wondered if I kissed him there, would he taste of blueberries?

* * *

A year and four months. God, where has the time gone? I sent another letter to Adam and Dawn through a post office in the last town we stopped at (which was three weeks ago, but besides the point). I don’t know if they’re getting any of my letters, but I pray that they at least got my first round. I pray that they at least believe that me and Uni are still alive.

“Hey, Cory, are you alright?” Uni asked as we walked out of the post office. I didn’t even realize that I had been crying. I told him yeah, I was alright, just got something in my eye as I wiped my tears away and tried to put deep friendship behind.

* * *

I’ve started to have nightmares. Or dreams, I can’t tell at this point. Of things during our adventures. Susan roaring. Uni barking and growling. Adam yelling. Nick screaming and kicking. Me ordering them around and the noise my Remington always made before I put a bullet in between someone’s eyes and th

* * *

“Hey, Cory,” Adam said as I walked into the room, feet crossed and kicked up on the table in the way that Dawn hated.

“Hey, Adam,” I responded, and took a seat next to him.

He lit up a cigarette (which Dawn also hated, but for completely different reasons) and sighed loudly, exhaling smoke into the air. “Hey, have I ever told you the story about my first boyfriend, Tommy Valentine?”

“No,” I said because he never told me anything about boyfriends or really anything about his life before the fallout. All I knew was that he had siblings and that his parents were kind of shitty in the special way only parents could be shitty in. His words, not mine, because all I remember of my parents was good. I think. I don’t know, at this point.

“We dated for years. He was this cute Italian boy. I can’t remember how we met, which is damn fucking sad, with how much he mattered to me. But we were together for longer than anyone I ever dated. Which was no one else, because Tommy was the first and only boyfriend I ever had. His dad was supportive up until the end. Don’t know what happened then, because Tommy was killed for being gay, and I fled that town.”

“Oh,” I said because what else was there to fucking say when your close friend just revealed to you that their first (and only) boyfriend was killed in a homophobic hate crime or something of the sorts. “That sucks, dude. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he responded and waved me away. “It was years ago and I’m over it. Just wanted you to know, in case I ever said anything in the future about him, or whatever.”

(He told me this in the Greenplace, and suddenly so many things fell into place. The next day, he also told Nick, Uni, and Dawn. Uni and Dawn responded with awkward “I’m sorry’s,” and “That’s terrible,” like what I did, but Nick looked him dead in the eyes and said, “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. You don’t deserve what happened to you, either.” And I swore, Adam starting tearing up on the spot.)

* * *

We used to go into towns a lot when we were still traveling around. Can’t remember the name of the place, but that one area where we found Ghetto and the power armor and then was promptly kicked out afterward.

Anyways, we usually traveled around the places at night. Finding still-open restaurants and stores to chill in, just for the thrill of it, fucking around long enough and laughing loud enough to make the owner's yell at us or kick us out. And when they did neither, we tried to push their buttons as much as we could, just to see if they would pull a gun on us or not. Adam found it hilarious to get on top of his chair in fancy diners and to scream swear words at the top of his lungs as Nick cackled.

We would cause a ruckus in the middle of the street and laugh when people tried to tell us to stop. I always felt a little guilty but it was exhilarating running from the “cops” the towns had in store for us. (P.S. they never did catch us.)

Once, while we were chilling in a store, as people do, a little cat walked in and started gnawing at bags lined up against the wall, trying to get to the food inside. Nick walked over to it, opened the top of the bag, grabbed the cat, dropped it in, then ran as the person working the store screamed at him and stormed over.

But whenever we tried to go to bars, Adam always tried to stay behind. Claiming that he wasn’t about to go around and be an alcoholic, that he’d rather stay back and guard whatever camp we had at the moment instead of getting wasted with strangers.

“I prefer to stay sober,” he said, “and you guys should too. Nick, are you even of age to drink? What are you, eleven, twelve, thirteen?”

“Twenty,” he said haughtily as I bent over, laughing (he wasn't even of age!), “don’t you forget that, old man. What are you, fifty, sixty, seventy?”

Adam grinned. “Two hundred and thirty-two and still looking this good! You kids these days will never have what it takes to get to my age and still look as good as I do. If I was any older, I could pull off a silver fox to make you want to leave me in public spaces. The men would be all over me, you’d get jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of some wrinkles and a saggy ass?”

He whacked Nick up the head for that. 

I guess it makes a lot more sense nowadays why Adam never wanted to go to bars. He also revealed that his boyfriend was killed by being roofied. He had been paranoid in bars ever since, scared he was going to get drugged and murdered like his ex-boyfriend of two hundred and forty-two years. He didn’t say that, but I could see it in the way he talked about drinking, how he talked about wanting to keep control.

Either that or whatever alcoholism he had before really, really fucked him up.

“I’m so fucking scared for y’all,” he admitted one of the few times me and Nick managed to drag him out to have fun, his excuse being that he wanted to “look over us” (despite flirting with half the men at that place).

“I know I’ve taught you guys again, and then again and again to check your drinks, never leave them alone and if you have to, just abandon it when you come back because you can never be too careful, but I’m still so fucking paranoid. Especially with Nick, that boy never watches out for anything, I wouldn’t know what I would do with myself if… if one of you were roofied and killed, or assaulted, or trafficked, or raped, or some combination of those things. I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if I let that happen to you guys.”

I put my hand over his gently, and said, “But that’s not going to happen to us, Adam, I promise.”

One night, after going out by himself for a while, Nick came back shaking and shivering. He left because of a big argument the group had and stormed out saying that he was going to get a drink to clear his head. He came back at two AM.

When the door opened, Adam leaped from his chair and almost threw himself at Nick, asking over and over again, “Are you okay? Did anything happen to you?” then, “Jesus Christ, do you know how fucking worried I was that something had happened to you? Did you think about how we would react if you didn’t come back by twelve? Do you ever think?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, then went to his room and didn’t come out for the rest of the night.

“Is Nick okay?” I asked Adam, who was staring after him.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, looking like a failure. Looking like he couldn’t live with himself. “I don’t know, Cory, but if he’s not, I’ll fucking kill whoever hurt him.”

* * *

Uni has been awfully quiet recently. It’s been a year and nine months and the days are starting to cave in. Goddammit, I love that dog, but I’m starting to get really, really lonely, being the only human in our little group of two and whatever supplies we have on us currently. I turned twenty-four a while ago. I wonder if the guys back at the Greenplace celebrated it.

I wonder if they celebrated my funeral, instead, convinced that neither me or Uni were going to come back after all.

* * *

Nick never talked about his past.

The most he would ever mention was a mom who died when he was young or a deadbeat dad who had never been in his life, or if he had been, wasn’t after his mom had died, and a twin sister who went missing when she was fourteen, trying to keep them both safe, and never returned. But he always spun it like some grand tail, like a lie, trying to keep them from the truth, however sad it was.

But there were some things he couldn’t hide. Like how his hands shook when they were around loud, rowdy, drunk men for too long. Or how he flinched at loud noises and shouting, even when it was from me or Adam or even Susan. How he only ate mushroom stew and how his ribs showed easily. How he only ever wore long sleeves and lied about the scars littered around his waist and peaking out of the waistband of his too-large pants.

He was a good liar, I’ll give him that. He managed to keep all of those hidden from us for a very long time. Eventually, Adam sat him down and tried to force answers out of him, but he lied and lied some more and then joked and then said if Adam didn’t fuck off and deal with his own stuff, he’d replace all his drinks with spoiled milk and mushroom stew.

But he couldn’t lie about the nightmares that woke us all up. Woke us all up because he screamed until Adam could wake him up or hold him down and force him back into a restless sleep. Those nights set us all on edge, waiting for something worse to happen.

One of the things I can most vividly remember is a conversation between him and Adam.

“If you’re trying to starve yourself, you need to try harder, mushroom stew does have some nutrients,” Adam said as Nick did his usual thing of only eating mushroom stew and looking hurt when everyone else talked about how disgusting it was and how they’d rather die than eat it and ew, you can have it all Nick, if you really want it, Jesus Christ.

He stopped then, mid-scooping out the bottom of the can to get the last of his meal out. “What?” he said in a strangled voice. Even Uni stopped to watch.

“I said, if you’re trying to starve yourself, it isn’t working.”

“And who says I’m trying to starve myself?” Nick said, sounding offended. He got up and walked away, dropping the can on the floor, before Adam could answer, and didn’t talk to him for the rest of the night. But the conversation stayed with me. I still don’t know whether or not Adam was grasping at straws or whether or not Nick legitimately had a problem.

There was this man he used to talk about. Rich, or something. He used to talk to him like he was a friend. Then lover. Then the worst person on Earth. Then the stuff of nightmares.

To this day I wonder if he’s involved in whatever was wrong with Nick.

* * *

Once he climbed into my bed after a nightmare. I let him. He was shaking and shivering in the way that he had before so I wrapped my arms around him until he calmed down and fell back asleep. We didn’t talk about it after.

It was weird seeing him without his binder. I still for bad for accidentally calling him something very, very rude out of ignorance. Adam punched me in the nose so hard I saw stars.

* * *

I think I know what Nick’s scars are now. I think I know why he has them now.

* * *

“I miss Dawn’s cooking,” Uni whines one day.

“I miss the fresh fruit and food from the Greenplace,” I responded.

“I miss sleeping out on the porch in the sun, then being able to run around and the grass and then eat as much of it as I want.”

“I miss having a comfortable, secure bed I knew I could go back to at night, even if the day was bad.”

“I miss Adam and his dumb jokes.”

“I miss Nick and his stupid sales.”

“I miss Susan and how Nick would try to get her to play fetch with him all the time.”

“I miss how, for the first few weeks, the house kept falling apart randomly so we always had to patch up some new hole in the wall or leak in the ceiling.”

“I miss yelling at Nick whenever he did something stupid.”

“I miss going out and practicing my aim and fighting skills with Adam out in the field.”

“I miss the tables.”

“I miss the walls.”

“I miss the windows.”

“I miss the floors.”

“I miss the  _ Greenplace. _ ”

“I miss everything from it and everyone inside of it.”

* * *

It’s been two years since we left the Greenplace. Two years, two birthdays, and the two of us, doing whatever we can to help people and wandering around the Wasteland and fucking shit up and causing chaos. It’s been two years since I’ve seen Nick and Adam and Dawn and Susan and it’s been two years since I’ve seen proper grass and plants and it’s been two years since I’ve had a proper bed to go back to after the day is done.

It’s been a rough trip, but it’s been nice, in its own ways. I guess. I don’t regret going out here and leaving the Greenplace and leaving everyone and 

actually 

fuck this

I regret everything. I regret leaving the Greenplace and leaving everyone and everything behind and not apologizing to Adam and not telling Nick that I loved him. I regret not knowing whether or not Dawn is safe and still functioning and if the plants are still growing well and if they managed to make it through the winter. I regret every. Fucking. Thing. About leaving that damn place.

Tomorrow, I’m packing up and I’m heading back, Uni be damned, but I know he’ll want to come with me.

I don’t care if they’re still there or not. If they are, yay me. If they aren’t, I’ll hunt them down until I can finally get my fucking  _ family  _ back.

This will be my last entry here ever.

It’s been a good run.

But I think I’ve left the people who truly matter behind for too long


End file.
